A/N: Just a reminder, I only own my OCs, Rachel and Lee J

VIII

Yellow Fever

"I'm going to ask this one more time. Why are you here?" The dark-skinned man demanded, walking towards Rachel threateningly.

"I already told you, we don't know. Please. You have to believe me," Rachel breathlessly answered.

Uriel nodded, turning his back to her. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, wrists throbbing from where they had chafed against the rope that bound her to the chair.

Castiel was in the corner of the room, behind Uriel, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he stared at the ground with knit-together eyebrows. Suddenly, Uriel turned, lashing out with his angel blade.

Rachel screamed as the blade pierced the skin on her cheek, blood dripping down her face and dribbling into her mouth.

"Uriel!" Cas exclaimed, walking up to the older angel and grabbing his arm before he could slash at her again.

"Can't you see? She's telling the truth," he proclaimed in a low voice.

Rachel glared up at them, spitting blood out of her mouth.

"Then why can't we reach her thoughts? She must be hiding something, Castiel, and for you to question an angel higher up in the garrison's ranks is outrageous. To take a human's side over your own brother? Perhaps you were the wrong choice to be assigned with the task of raising the righteous man," he growled, and Castiel hesitantly let go of the commanding angel's arm, looking scorned.

Uriel lowered his blade. "We're done for tonight. Erase her memories," he commanded Castiel, walking out of the bright room.

Cas looked down at her pitifully. "I am sorry, Rachel," his blue eyes peered into hers sadly, before he placed his hand on her forehead, and she was succumbed to darkness.

Gasping, Rachel's eyes popped open just as a sharp pain tore through her head. She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the cry of pain that threatened to escape her lips, and just as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. Rachel swung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned her elbows on her knees, holding her head in her hands, trying to control her breathing. She hadn't had a good night's sleep in the longest time, and when she awoke it was always accompanied by a sharp pain in her head and a flash of blue eyes looking down at her. She never remembered her dreams anymore. Rachel rubbed her face with her hands and looked over at the other bed, where Dean lay, asleep—Sam nowhere around. She looked behind her only to find that Lee's side of the bed was empty as well. Rachel frowned, flinging herself back against the pillows, eyelids drooping before she caught a few more hours of rest before sunrise.

…

Rock Ridge, Colorado

"… Dude, Tyler and Perry? Don't you think that the lead singers of Aerosmith's names would be a little conspicuous?" Lee asked, hair still dripping from the shower as she sat cross-legged on the bed in her PJs, checking out Dean and Sam's fake FBI badges as Dean fumbled with his tie. "Shut up," he retorted, undoing the knot he'd just made. Lee rolled her eyes, leaping off the bed and crossing the room, grabbing hold of the tie. "Hey, what—"Dean protested as she skillfully tied it and tightened it up to his collar, smoothing down the white shirt. "There you go," she smiled, patting Dean's chest. "Thanks," he muttered, and they both turned as the motel room door opened, and Rachel entered, carrying fast food bags. "I brought grub!" she announced, sitting down at the table. Dean quickly joined her, and they both chowed down on pancakes as Sam exited the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. Lee quickly averted her eyes, sitting down with Dean and Rachel. Soon Sam was dressed, and the Winchesters left for the coroner's office, leaving Rachel and Lee alone in the motel room.

"So! What do you wanna do?" Lee asked Rachel as the door closed.

Rachel sighed heavily. "I don't know. I'm too tired," she breathed, collapsing onto the bed to stare at the ceiling.

Lee walked over to her friend, sitting next to her and looking at her worriedly. "Hey… are you okay?" she asked, poking her.

Rachel groaned. "No. it's like it doesn't matter how much sleep I get, I'm always exhausted… mentally…" Rachel trailed off before sitting up suddenly, realization shining in her eyes.

"Wait… this has been happening ever since that night…"

Lee widened her eyes, clueing in. "The night with Travis… you never did tell me what happened with the angels… what if?"

"… they're trying to get info?" Rachel finished, nodding eagerly. Finally. Now here was an explanation that could only make sense.

"I've been having sharp head pains whenever I wake up, and I keep only seeing a flash of what could only be one person's blue eyes…" Rachel trailed off.

"Oh, those sons of bitches… I wouldn't put it past those winged dickheads to try and screw with our minds just to get info. YOU KNOW THERE'S SUCH A THING AS JUST ASKING," Lee shouted, looking up.

"Lee!" Rachel warned, grabbing her friend's arm.

Lee sighed. "Oh, you're right. I'm sorry, I should be totally okay with the fact that they could be digging through your mind, torturing you, and God knows what else." she grumbled.

"What should we do?" Rachel thought aloud.

"What can we do? They're angels. We're… us." Lee responded helplessly, rubbing her temples.

Rachel chewed her lip nervously until Lee finally straightened.

"Alright. For now, you try and get some shuteye, and I'll look up some stuff about angel-proofing our minds… maybe I can find some lore on the interwebs," Lee thought aloud, going to sit in Sam's spot at the table.

Rachel nodded, feeling better already. "Good idea. I'm gonna pass out now," she responded, burrowing under the covers. Lee snorted, grabbing Sam's laptop and opening it.

…

Sam and Dean walked out of the police station, trying to figure out just what it was they were hunting.

"There is no way that was just a heart attack," Dean proclaimed, and Sam huffed in agreement.

"Definitely no way. Three victims, all with those same red scratches, all went from jittery to terrified to dead within 48 hours."

"So something scared them to death?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "Alright, so what can do that?"

Dean scoffed. "What can't? Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra? It could be a hundred things."

Sam nodded, annoyed. "Yeah, so we make a list and start…" Sam's phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket, checking the ID. "…crossing things off… it's a private number," Sam remarked, looking at Dean as he went to press the 'call' button. Dean grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Whoa whoa whoa, wait… you sure you wanna answer that? I mean, it could be anybody… what if it's something… evil or something?" Dean anxiously questioned.

Sam squinted at his older brother. "What are they gonna do, talk me to death? I'm sure it'll be fine, Dean, relax," he rolled his eyes and answered the phone as Dean shifted uncomfortably, staring at a group of teenagers near the Impala.

"Agent Tyler," Sam answered briskly. "Oh, Lee… hey…" He paused as she spoke.

"Yeah, sorry, we're just about to head to the victim's neighbor's house… dude named Mark Hutchins. Apparently he was the last person to see O'Brien alive." Sam explained. Lee said something, and Sam listened intently.

"… Pretty much. We're not too sure what killed him, but it looks like he was scared to death—oh, and get this: all three victims were found with scratches all up their arms." He finished.

She spoke a little longer, and he hung up.

"That was Lee. She was wondering what was taking so long; I told her we were…" He trailed off as he noticed Dean had stopped listening, staring warily at the kids near his car.

"Dean," Sam called, grabbing his brother's arm.

"What? Yeah, yeah neighbor, got it… listen, I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there." Dean pulled Sam sideways, talking low.

Sam looked over at them, and then looked back at his brother, concerned.

"Let's walk this way," Dean decided, walking across the street and glancing around him nervously.

Sam confusedly stared after his brother.

…

"Tyler and Perry. Just like Aerosmith!" The victim's neighbor exclaimed, sitting across from Sam and Dean and stroking the green boa constrictor that was draped around his neck and arm. The brothers had just sat down to talk to the man, and Dean smiled awkwardly, sweating slightly.

"Yeah. Small world," Sam answered shortly. "So, the last time you saw Frank O'Brien?"

"Monday. He was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed his curtains." The man answered, shrugging and petting his snake.

"Hm. Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem any different? Uh, scared? Sam asked.

Dean swallowed, looking around the reptile-filled living room.

"Oh, totally. He was freaking out."

"Do you know-uh, do you know what scared him?" Dean stuttered.

"Well yeah. Witches." The man answered matter-of-factly.

"Witches?" Sam inquired, looking to his brother meaningfully.

"well, wizard of oz was on TV. the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him."

The brothers glanced at each other.

"Anything else scare him?" Sam pressed.

"Everything else scared him—Al Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener, those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes—lots of stuff."

Dean shifted uncomfortable, anxiously gazing at one of the lizards in the corner of the room.

They finished up the conversation and headed back to the Bluebird motel.

…

Lee jumped up as soon as the motel room door opened, Sam and Dean entered, Sam first, and a jumpy-looking Dean behind him. Dean's eyes scanned the room as Lee walked up to Sam. "Well? What'd you find?" she inquired in a loud whisper. Sam saw Rachel asleep on the bed and answered,

"Well, Dean may be haunted."

Dean looked at her with wide eyes.

Lee frowned. "Oh." She replied.

"Oh?" Dean repeated. "What do you mean, 'oh'? Do you know something? Am I gonna die?" he whispered frantically.

Lee held her hands up. "Relax, Dean! You're not gonna die. Yet." She added.

"Yet?!" he repeated.

Lee sighed, and Dean walked over to the bed, looking down at it like he was going to sit, but decided against it, walking back over to them.

"Tell us what you know," Sam pressed.

Lee stared at Dean with a frustrated look on her face as he walked back to the bed, examining the sheets.

"Lee?" Sam continued.

Lee rolled her eyes, "Oh, for the love of—you're not gonna die by sheet, Dean would you please sit down?" she exclaimed. Dean sat, looking like a scorned child.

"Lee!" Sam exclaimed, louder.

"What?" she responded, glaring at him.

"What do you know?"

She sighed. "Not a lot. Call Bobby for more info, But Dean's been infected."

"Infected?"

Lee nodded. "It's called 'ghost sickness,' and it makes you get super scared until finally your heart gives out, but I'm no expert on it, so call Bobby." She finished, shoving her cell into Sam's hand, and rushing back to the table, where Sam's laptop sat, open, with multiple tabs pulled up.

"Is that my laptop?" Sam asked.

"Call Bobby!" Lee demanded, eyes not leaving the screen. He frowned, doing as she asked.

"I'm gonna go sleep in the car," Dean announced, rushing out.

…

Sam approached the car, where Dean lay, air-drumming to Eye of the Tiger. He tapped on the roof, and Dean started, sitting up suddenly and switching the radio off.

"Hey, Lee's getting Pie," Sam told the older Winchester as he got out of the Impala and leaned against the driver's side door.

"Dude. Look at this," Dean demanded, shoving up the sleeve to his jacket to reveal scratch marks on his forearm.

Sam sighed. "So, I just talked to Bobby."

"And?" Dean inquired.

"And you're not gonna like it. It is ghost sickness, just like Lee said."

Dean groaned. "Ghost sickness? God, no."

Sam nodded. Dean looked at him.

"I don't even know what that is," he told him.

"Okay. Some cultures believed that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes." Sam explained.

"Okay get to the good stuff," Dean interrupted.

"Basically you get anxious then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out," Rachel said from behind them, approaching. Sam turned, his attention shifting to her.

"You're awake. For a second I thought you were in a coma," Sam mocked, and Rachel looked down, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Yeah, guess I really needed some sleep," she responded. "So…I missed Dean getting infected?" she shifted her attention to the shorter brother.

"Yeah, but the thing is, we haven't seen a ghost in weeks." Dean said.

"Well, I doubt you caught it from a ghost," Sam offered.

Rachel nodded. "Once one person is infected, the sickness can be passed on just like any other common cold," she explained.

"Exactly… you can catch it from a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu. Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient 0." Sam added.

"Our very own outbreak monkey," Dean nodded.

Rachel went to lean on the car next to Dean, listening intently.

"Right. Get this—Frank was in Maumee over the weekend… softball tournament… which is where he must have infected the other two victims."

"Were they Gamecocks?" Dean asked, and Rachel looked at him, confused.

"It's their softball team name," he explained, and she nodded.

"No, they were Cornjerkers." Sam responded. Rachel flung her head back.

"Okay, please tell me I'm not the only one realizing how creepy these team names are," she sarcastically added.

"So, ghost infected Frank, He passed it on to the other guy, and I got it from his corpse?" Dean went through the story.

"Right." Sam confirmed.

"So, now, what, I have 48 hours before I go insane and my heart stops?" Dean exclaimed.

"More like 24," Sam corrected, and Rachel winced.

"Super!"

"Yeah."

"Well why me, I mean, why not you? I mean you got hit with the spleen juice," Dean pointed out.

Rachel grimaced. "Okay… what do you two do in your free time?" she asked.

"Yeah, see, Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully, the other two victims—one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer."

"Okay," Dean commented, confused.

"Basically, they were all Dicks," Sam and Rachel said at the same time, grinning.

"So you're saying I'm a dick?" Dean exclaimed.

"No, no, no it's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor." Sam explained.

"Just desserts," Rachel added, and Sam nodded in agreement.

"I don't scare people," Dean pressed.

"Dean all we do is scare people," Sam retorted.

"Okay, well, then you're a dick, too," Dean accused.

"Apparently I'm not," Sam smirked. Rachel laughed.

"Whatever! How do we stop it?"

"Kill the ghost that started it," Rachel answered.

"You thinking Frank's wife?" Dean offered.

"Who knows why she killed herself, you know?" Sam shrugged.

Dean exhaled. "What are you doing waiting out here, anyhow?" Sam asked.

"…Our room's on the fourth floor," Dean explained, looking up. "It's—it's high," he gestured.

"I'll see if I can move us down to the first floor" Sam scoffed.

"Thanks." Dean slid into the car, and Rachel rolled her eyes, chuckling softly.

…

Lee anxiously bobbed her foot up and down, eyes roaming all over the laptop screen in front of her. She and Dean were the only ones in the motel room at the moment, and Dean was reading up on more ghost sickness lore while Lee tried to research angel-proofing your mind. Lee, however, was extra impatient with Dean, as he kept fidgeting and glancing up at the clock. Dean coughed, and Lee's attention was once again drawn to him. She finally shut the laptop closed, going to sit next to him. He only glanced up once before his gaze returned to the pages. Suddenly, his eyebrows shot up, and Lee concernedly looked at him. Dean's eyes widened, and he squeezed them shut, rubbing them with one hand. "Hey.. you okay?" Lee asked, going to clasp him on the shoulder, but suddenly Dean grunted, pushing himself away from the book. "Dean?!" Lee tried to gain his attention, but he glared at the clock. Suddenly he stood, going over to the wall and grabbing the clock, smashing it to the ground. Lee ran over to him as he panted. "Hey, hey, Dean calm down," she soothed, and he flinched as she gently took his arm, leading him to the couch. "It's okay. You're not gonna die, okay? We're not gonna let you die again," she promised him, pulling him in for a hug. He stiffly accepted the embrace before stepping back and walking over to the fridge, grabbing a beer and taking a swig before settling onto the couch. Lee frowned.

…

Sam and Rachel walked in just as Lee finished sweeping up the broken clock. She rose as they entered, and Sam took in her actions, asking,

"Everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah. Just peachy," Dean responded, taking another gulp of beer and smiling sarcastically.

"Find anything?" he asked.

"Yeah, O'Brien was cremated. So she's not our ghost," Rachael announced, plopping down across from him.

Sam looked around for a place to sit before nudging Dean.

"Hey! Quit picking at that," he demanded, and Dean stopped scratching his forearm.

"How you feeling?" Sam asked, taking Rachael's spot as she went over to speak to Lee in the kitchen.

"Awesome," she heard Dean respond.

"Hey," she greeted Lee, who was leaning over the sink, staring at the drain.

She straightened. "We have to tell them. Dean's on a time limit, and I promised him we wouldn't let him die, so can we please, just this once, cut the episode short?" she briskly asked.

Rachel grimaced. "I don't know…" she admitted.

"What do you mean? Do you… Do you understand how severe this is? It's not just a show now, and yes it was funny to watch Dean run from a Yorkie and scream at a cat, but he's real now, and the terror in his eyes….." Lee pursed her lips.

Suddenly Dean rushed into the kitchen, Sam on his heels, and Lee jumped out of the way as he leaned over the sink, coughing and spluttering. Suddenly something flew out of his mouth, and the brothers examined it.

Lee looked over at Rachel, and Rachel nodded.

"We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have—you" Sam exclaimed, as Dean examined the woodchip from his throat.

"I don't wanna be a clue," Dean whined, looking mildly disturbed.

"The abrasions, this… The disease…. It's trying to tell us something." Sam went on.

"Tell us what? Woodchips?" Dean exclaimed.

"Exactly." Sam responded. He looked over at Lee, as if he wanted to clue her in, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"Go." She encouraged.

…

While Sam and Dean went to check out the lumber mill, Rachel and Lee were left behind, despite the fact that Lee protested that they were perfectly capable of protecting themselves.

"It's too dangerous. You could get killed. We could killed. In fact, Sam, you're right. None of us should go," Dean said quickly, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"You two are staying here, and we are going and that's final. Understood?" Sam declared, looking between the four of them.

Lee sighed, crossing her arms. Sam ignored her, practically shoving his brother out the door.

"We'll be back," he said, shutting the door behind him.

"Ugh. I'm sick of this hotel room. I'm sick of this wallpaper. It's light out. Let's go get something to eat," Lee proclaimed, grabbing one of Sam's hoodies and shrugging into it.

She and Rachel headed out to the Chevelle and were at a diner in thirty minutes.

"You know what I don't get?" Lee asked around a mouthful of burger.

"What?" Rachel responded.

"Why just you? I mean, not that I feel left out, but why would the angels only rifle through your mind? Why not have a go at both of us and see who breaks first?" She thought aloud.

Rachel shrugged, sipping on her drink. "Maybe it's because you barely sleep? Or, considering the fact that this has been going on for months, maybe they haven't cracked me yet. I mean, if they could just read my mind they'd have had the info they needed by now, which leads me to believe that they can't," she mused.

"Huh," Lee grunted when suddenly Rachel's phone rang. She mouthed, 'Sam' to Lee before answering.

"Hey Sam, what's up?" she greeted. She listened, nodded, they exchanged a few words then she hung up.

"Right, so they're heading to the sheriff's to look up Luther Garland." Rachel informed her.

Lee nodded. "I really think we should tell them," she frowned.

Rachel didn't say anything, just looked down at her plate of food.

…

Lee and Rachel had been back at the motel for hours when suddenly Dean rushed in. Lee, who had been pacing back and forth nervously, jumped about ten feet into the air when he busted in, yelping in surprise, which in turn woke Rachel from her nap. Dean gasped for breath, leaning against the door, eyes wide.

"Dean, WHAT THE HELL," Lee exclaimed, hand against her heart. Dean just turned his doe-eyed expression to her annoyed one and rushed to the couch.

Sam called soon after, and Lee explained the yorkie incident. Sam was silent for a few minutes and then muttered, "I'll be right there," before hanging up.

"I looked everywhere for you, Dean. How did you even get here?" Sam scolded when he arrived.

"Ran." Dean admitted sheepishly, sweat glistening on his forehead.

Sam sighed and sat.

"What do we do now? I got less than four hours on the clock," Dean questioned.

Sam sighed again when Dean quietly said, "I'm gonna die, Sammy."

Sam opened his mouth to respond when Dean said, "What?"

Sam looked confused. "I didn't say anythi-"

"No…. You get out of my brother, you evil son of a bitch!" Dean interrupted, standing and backing away from Sam.

"Dean—" Sam slowly walked toward him, trying to calm his brother down.

Dean backed himself into a wall, eyes widening when suddenly he started choking.

"Hey, hey, DEAN? DEAN!" Sam yelled, trying to pull the older Winchester out of his trance. Finally Dean focused on his younger brother, realizing it was only a vision.

…

Bobby's old pickup rumbled as it made its way up the rough terrain in front of the lumber yard. The door creaked as he got out. "Howdy Sam, Lee," Bobby nodded to both of them in greeting.

"Hey, Bobby. Thanks for coming up so quick," Sam said and Bobby nodded.

"Where's Dean?" he asked.

"uh… home sick," Sam answered, chuckling.

"Yeah, and Rachel's playing nurse and making sure he doesn't keep scratching," Lee added, and then grimaced. "…I meant playing nurse because she's a nurse, and she's taking care of him… not like playing nurse playing nurse…. I'm going to stop talking," she rambled. Sam laughed.

"So have his hallucinations started yet?" Bobby asked, leaning next to Sam.

"Yeah, a few hours ago," Sam confirmed, perched atop the hood of the impala.

Lee stood before both of them, arms crossed.

"How are we doing on time?" Bobby pressed.

"Well, we saw the coroner about 8AM Monday morning, so uh… just under 2 hours. What about you, you find anything?"

"This, uh encyclopedia of spirits dates back to the Edo period," he said, handing it to Sam.

"You can read Japanese?" Sam asked, examining the scripture and tilting it so that Lee could see over his shoulder.

Bobby said something in Japanese, and Sam glanced at him. "Guess so," he muttered.

"Show off," he and Lee said at the same time, and they smirked at each other.

"Anyways this book shows something that could be our guy. It's a ghost that infects people with fear, called a buruburu." Bobby explained.

"Does it say how to kill it?" Sam eagerly questioned.

"Same as usual… burn the remains," Bobby answered, and Sam sighed.

"There's a way that will work," Lee announced, turning to face them again.

"You have to scare it to death, just like the victims. It'll work, because it basically was born from the fear it endured, and it only makes sense for it to die the same way," She explained.

"So we have to scare a ghost to death," Sam asked.

"Pretty much," Bobby confirmed, nodding.

"How the hell are we gonna do that?" Sam wondered aloud.

"We have to kill it, the same way that it was killed in real life. So, chain around the neck, drag it through the woodchips, should do the trick. And by 'should' I mean 'will' because I've seen it work." Lee said, and the men just looked at her.

"Wait a minute… you're saying that all this time, you and Rachael knew how to defeat this Buruburu, and save Dean, and you just… kept it to yourselves?" Sam demanded, hopping off the hood and stepping towards her angrily.

"I—I'm sorry, Sam I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know the main info, and we don't know what we should or shouldn't change," Lee cried, stumbling backwards.

"Dean is DYING," Sam exclaimed.

"I know! I'm sorry, Sam! But I really think we should argue about it later because time is not something we really have right now," she pointed out in a shaky voice.

"The only reason we're low on time is because of you." Sam snapped angrily, towering over her.

"Enough," Bobby said, stepping between them and pushing Sam back.

Lee looked away guiltily. It was her fault, and she knew that she could have cause Dean a lot of trouble.

Sam sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, Lee. You didn't know. I mean, you did, but you didn-"

"It's fine." Lee stopped him. "Call Dean, tell him the plan," she told him, walking over to get the iron chain from Bobby's trunk.

Bobby gave Sam a meaningful glare. Sam rolled his eyes and opened the phone.

"…Just a… good plan. Just hang in there, Dean," Sam finished, hanging up.

"…This is a terrible plan," Bobby contradicted.

"Yeah, tell me about it."Sam agreed.

"It's not a terrible plan, but…." Lee protested, but trailed off when they both looked at her doubtfully.

"Okay it's terrible, but it's our best and only one, so suck it up." She told them, inhaling nervously.

"I know I said 'scare a ghost to death,' but this?" Bobby grumbled.

Sam chuckled, "Hey, you got a better idea, I'm listening."

All three of them nodded in agreement and they set off to hunt the buruburu.

"…God, this is creepy," Lee muttered as she and Sam strolled cautiously into the mill, both wielding iron pipes. The wind blew through, making everything creak and moan as if only to prove her point.

"Just, stay behind me," Sam said, pulling out his salt-filled shotgun.

They slowly entered the room with all of the drawings of O'Brien's wife when Bobby's voice sounded over the radio.

"Any luck?"

Lee grabbed the walkie-talkie from Sam's pocket as he went to grab it, sticking her tongue out at him when he snatched it back.

"I don't know what's wrong, Bobby. Last time he came right at us," he told him.

It's almost like he's, uh… like he's scared."

"So now what?" Bobby asked.

"Rip up the drawings," Lee suggested.

"Guess I gotta make him angry," Sam said, nodding to Lee.

"Hey, Luther! Come on Luther, where the hell are you?!" Sam yelled, tearing up the drawings. The machinery started up, and Lee whirled around, holding up the iron pipe.

"SAM!" Lee yelled as Luther's ghost popped up behind him, grabbing Sam's collar and tossing him to the ground and kicking him.

"Luther, Stop!" Lee yelled, and he stopped, turning to look at her. Lee's eyes widened as he took a step towards her, but that was all the time Sam needed to grab the iron chain and wrap it around Luther's neck, yelling, "Bobby! Punch it!"

Tires screeched as Luther was pulled out of the mill. Sam jumped to his feet and ran through the doors, gasping. Lee ran after him and watched as Bobby dragged the buruburu through the woodchip-littered road. Suddenly, Luther stopped struggling and disintegrated into a trail of smoke. The machinery in the mill stopped, and Sam and Lee exhaled in relief. Bobby hit the brakes, and Lee went over to Sam.

"You okay?" She panted, eyes wide. Sam looked into her wild expression and laughed, grabbing her and pulling her into a big hug. Lee yelped in surprise and laughed.

"Can't…. breathe…" she protested, and Sam set her down, smiling breathlessly.

"Sorry," he breathed, and Lee smiled at him, face inches from his.

Lee cleared her throat and stepped back, calling out.

"Hey, Bobby! What do you say we go get a pack of cold ones to celebrate?!" She yelled, laughing when he sped the Impala over to them as fast as he could.

…

"So you guys road-hauled a ghost… with a chain?" Dean questioned, offering a beer to Bobby, who declined.

"Iron chain, etched with a spell word." Sam corrected, pointing to Bobby, who smiled.

"Hmm. Well, that's a new one." Dean offered.

"Yeah, you know what else is a 'new one'? " Rachel asked, approaching.

"What?" Lee asked from beside Bobby.

"A big bad Winchester hunter running from a designer dog," she remarked slyly, looking over at Dean, who's face tightened. Bobby, Sam and Lee all laughed.

"Yeah, how are you feeling, by the way?" Sam asked.

"Fine." Dean responded.

"You sure, Dean? 'cause this line of work can get awful scary," Bobby added smartly.

"I'm fine. You want to go hunt? 'Cause I'll go hunting. I'll kill anything." Dean demanded.

"Aw," Sam responded.

"He's adorable," Bobby added, and they laughed.

"I gotta get out of here," Bobby announced, heading to the drivers' side of his truck. "You boys drive safe, and girls, keep 'em out of trouble?"

"Like that's possible," Rachel snorted.

"We'll do our best," Lee smiled, giving him a quick hug.

And with that, Bobby drove off.

A/N: Please, feel free to leave a comment/ review! Remember to favorite + follow if you like J Feedback is always great, and I'd love to hear thoughts on what you want to see more of, less of, who do you like more, ships, non- ships, anything! So yee :P